


Please Allow Me to Introduce Myself

by GealachGirl



Series: The Trouble With Soulmates [1]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Brad is justifiably neurotic, M/M, Ray understands, Soulmate AU, first words your soulmate says, zero angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:21:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6774349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GealachGirl/pseuds/GealachGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad doesn't think it's going to work out with his soulmate. He's not right about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Allow Me to Introduce Myself

Brad wasn’t big on the idea of soulmates. In general, he wasn’t big on anything he didn’t have a choice in, and seeing as how a life partner was a pretty big thing, he really wasn’t into the idea of not having a choice in the matter.

People—his happily married, soulmate parents—were always telling him that your soulmate was someone you would have chosen anyway. Soulmates were your perfect match, after all. They reassured him that the words were just how you identified the person you belonged with.

His sisters told him about how when they’d met their soulmate husbands and heard the words they’d always had on their skin, that they _did_ choose—to stick around, to get married, to ride off into the sunset together. They told him it was electric and that when he finally had someone say the words on his skin, he would have a choice. Just because that choice was obvious and he already knew what it was didn’t mean it wasn’t a choice.

Brad listened to their protests and explanations, but he still thought that it didn’t seem like much of a choice. To have a choice, you have to be free to say no.

He wasn’t really opposed to having someone who was perfect for him—who would turn that down?—but he’d rather figure it out for himself and decide whether or not to stick with them. When someone said the words that were printed on his bicep, he would know. He would know that this person was the one and he wouldn’t be able to say no. Because who in the hell would turn that down?

It felt suffocating.

Sometimes Brad stared at the words in the mirror, or traced them at night while he looked at the ceiling. _Please allow me to introduce myself_. He tried to imagine the words coming out of someone’s mouth, tried to imagine the tone and the inflection.

He’d figured that the person was probably some fancy asshole who would approach him at a party or event or something. Sometimes he imagined an accent and that made everything worse. Because, yeah, that wasn’t Brad’s style. None of it was.

He didn’t know when or how he would encounter someone like that. Brad didn’t exactly belong to any social circles that involved people who introduced themselves so formally—“Please allow me to introduce myself”.

He rode a motorcycle and got speeding tickets at least twice a month, he didn’t give a shit about politics or diplomacy or the goddamn stock market, he had tattoos. None of that fell in line with someone who would say, “Please allow me to introduce myself.”

Just in case, he took the extra effort to be sure he didn’t.

Computer engineering was safely outside of any fancy circles that could involve events with suits. As a bonus, he was really good at it and it aligned exactly with his interests. He kept the motorcycle, got a bigger tattoo, and he almost lost his license once or twice.

His family—all happily paired off with their soulmates—watched him with amusement and mild concern, but he didn’t care. He had his choices and he had his life the way he wanted it. His soulmate could kindly fuck off.

Sometimes, if Brad thought he hadn’t done enough, he would imagine how to shut down a potential meeting where someone would greet him with those terrible words. He came up with some pretty creative solutions if he did say so himself.

But he always realized it was useless. As soon as those words came out of someone’s mouth, or they even thought of saying them to him, Brad was done and whatever he could possibly say would be what was written somewhere on their body. (It amused him distantly to think that some of the longer, more creative, more expletive-laden responses he’d thought up could possibly be written on someone’s body.)

It only added to the feeling of being trapped. And he only hated his soulmate more.

Unfortunately for Brad, one of his sisters was involved in the kinds of circles that he wanted to avoid. And when he was 18, she won an award that warranted a gala and a suit. To make it worse, Brad’s parents wouldn’t let him skip out on going.

“Bradley Colbert,” his mother started, “you’re going to support your sister. This is about her, not you. And if you do happen to meet your soulmate, maybe you’ll realize how ridiculous you’re being. Hopefully they’ll help you with that.” The look in her eyes was hard and compelling to the point of being forceful.

Brad had the same look, and his friend Tony called it the “Iceman stare”. It wasn’t easy to argue with.

“You don’t have to talk to anyone, if you’re really set on that idea,” his dad told him. Brad’s mom didn’t look pleased that he was encouraging Brad’s ridiculousness, but it’s what persuaded Brad to put his jacket on and get in the car.

The gala was in a ballroom, of course, and it was populated by people in suits and gowns and Brad’s skin itched. He kept his eyes constantly trained on the crowd, monitoring it for anyone who might approach him and say the dreaded words.

Luckily, his sister’s award was being given out near the beginning of the event. It wasn’t clear, but Brad hoped that he could maybe leave when she was done. The only time Brad looked away from the crowd was when his sister made her acceptance speech.

He watched her at the podium, glowing, and felt a rush of pride. Maybe they were pains in his ass, but he did love his sisters.

When she was done and the attention in the room divided again, Brad looked back into the crowd. And he saw, as people moved to resume mingling, a tall boy about his age approaching. He had a young face and green eyes and he was moving straight for Brad with an open expression and a smile on his face.

A spike of panic raced through his spine and Brad quickly spun on his foot to blend back into the crowd.

He was painfully aware of the words on his arm and he kept his head down as the next award winner climbed the makeshift stage. His parents weren’t on board with his idea of leaving early and Brad swallowed his disappointment.

The green-eyed kid didn’t give up either. Brad avoided him for about an hour and finally managed to slip outside, feeling proud of himself.  
It was then, of course, that a body dropped down beside him on the top step and he stiffened. So far this wasn’t the formal introduction that he’d always imagined and he refused to say anything first. Maybe if he moved quick enough—

“You know, we’re the only teenagers at this party. I don’t know what the fuck I did to…freak you out or offend you or whatever, but I at least thought we could hang out to keep from dying of boredom.”

Brad turned to look at the kid and saw frustration in his green eyes.

And that was how he met his other best friend, Nate Fick.

************

Four years later, Brad was on top of the world. He walked out of his last final exam and straight back to his apartment and waiting friends.

Tonight they were celebrating.

Now that Brad was on his own and had gotten even further away from the life that could produce his soulmate, he didn’t worry about going out. He didn’t think someone who said things like, “Please allow me to introduce myself,” would frequent the loud, college bars that he did or hang out in even remotely the same friend groups.

Some people, though they were rare, never met their soulmate. The idea was kind of a bummer, but Brad didn’t mind that much. It left him open to find happiness for himself, and the thought was freeing. Just because he had a perfect match somewhere out there—and he wasn’t sure how much he believed in perfection—didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy with someone else.

For example, the skinny kid with the dark eyes who he kept making eye contact with.

Everyone was celebrating the end of finals, seniors and underclassmen alike, and the party was stretching into the night. It was 11, Brad had a few beers in his system, and he was interested.

Though they’d both been there for about the same period of time, the bar had been packed all evening and movement was virtually impossible. He’d also staked out a booth with Nate and Poke, both of whom were trying to get more drinks and would not appreciate Brad losing them their spot.

But there was no pressure. That was what Brad liked about not worrying about a soulmate. There was never any pressure. Instead, he kept making eye contact with the guy and they continued to have silent conversations through facial expressions alone.

A blond kid who looked to be about twelve appeared suddenly beside Dark Eyes, talking rapidly. Dark Eyes turned his attention away from Brad for a moment to address the kid and listen to whatever he was saying. It only took a moment for a grin to stretch across his face and he was high fiving the twelve-year-old.

Brad quirked an eyebrow, mostly to himself, but Dark Eyes glanced back and caught the expression. His grin widened somehow and he waggled his eyebrows back. Then he turned around and pushed away through the crowd.

For a moment, Brad felt the loss of his bar companion, but then he told himself he was being ridiculous. They hadn’t actually spoken to each other, even if it felt like they’d had a whole conversation over the course of the evening.

Anyway.

Brad craned his head to try to find Poke and Nate at the bar, wondering if they’d made any progress in the quest for more alcohol.

That was when the song playing overhead changed. Because the new song was coming from the jukebox in the corner—one that was supposed to be out of order and had been for as long as Brad had been coming here—it was connected to a different sound system; which made the music louder than that on the normal speakers.

At the sound of the fast-paced, upbeat drums, Brad grinned and started to tap his fingers along to the beat.

Someone slid into the space beside him and came in right on time singing along, “ _Please allow me to introduce myself_.”

Brad didn’t think before he continued the line, singing back, “ _I’m a man of wealth and taste_.”

Then it hit him and, by the look of it, it hit Dark Eyes at the same moment. The song carried on without them and they stared at each other.

Something was curling in Brad’s stomach, but he didn’t know what to call it. His thoughts wouldn’t fall in line and he was left gaping at the guy across the table from him, having no clue what he should say or do next.

“Shit, Holmes,” the guy whispered, eyes still wide and fixed on Brad. He scrambled to pull the collar of his shirt down to reveal text written on his chest in the same font as the text on Brad’s bicep. “Those were my words.”

Distantly, Brad registered that the man had a nice voice. But he was still trying to figure out what should happen next because his mind was completely, frustratingly blank. And the guy who was apparently his soulmate was still staring at him, not offering any fucking help.

Brad finally broke eye contact and cast his gaze around for Poke or Nate before he decided that they could fend for themselves. He grabbed his soulmate by the arm, ignored the way his skin reacted to touching him, and made his way for one of the bar’s side doors.

When Brad pulled away to look at the guy again, his dark brown eyes were sparkling and there was an excited smile on his face. He fisted his hands in the front of Brad’s T-shirt and pulled him down with a surprising amount of strength.

Brad flung his hands out to brace against the wall and pull back and away. His soulmate’s hands uncurled and he looked at Brad in confusion, especially now that Brad was essentially on the other side of what was technically an alley.

“What the hell, man? I thought that when guys pulled each other into alleys, they usually had sexy times on the brain. Especially when they’re fucking soulmates,” the guy protested, passionate and vaguely flailing with his hand gestures being what they were.

Brad’s skin was still tingling and his mind was still racing. And really what was the point of a brain if it abandoned him in times of need?

“Dude, what the fuck?” There was a hint of anger in the other guy’s tone now and Brad closed his eyes.

This was his soulmate. The guy who had said the words that had been on Brad’s arm for his whole life. He was scrawny and mouthy and clearly very strong-willed. And he thought approaching someone by singing at them was a normal thing to do. And he was expecting something.

And fuck. This was what Brad had been hoping to avoid.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I just—I don’t know what to do. I wasn’t expecting to find you. Why the fuck did you have to say them?” Brad found himself stepping forward so he was standing closer again and what the hell? Since when did he projectile vomit his thoughts to strangers? If the kid could even be a stranger. He sighed.

At least now that he had those words out, it didn’t feel like everything was happening too fast, and his thoughts were coming back to him.

“I was planning on approaching my new bar friend and possible hook-up because he looked like a good time,” the kid retorted. Then he stopped and it seemed to hit him again because his tone of voice changed to something a little more reserved, “And, shit, I said your words.”

The anger melted out of his face and he watched Brad for a moment before he said, “Great, my soulmate’s a neurotic giant. Do you have Viking heritage? Because I’m definitely getting that from what I see before me.” The words flowed out of his mouth effortlessly and Brad closed his eyes.

“Shut up,” he sighed. But he reflected on his soulmate’s words. They sounded harsh and vaguely insulting, but his tone under the word-vomit was soft and somehow fond. As if they knew each other and this was the way they talked to each other all the time.

Brad wasn’t surprised when his soulmate didn’t listen.

“So if you’re not going to push me against the wall and ravish me, or let me do it to you, what was your endgame here? Did you really drag me out here so you could lay out all of your insecurities? Because from what I’ve seen, it seems like we’re going to be out here for a long time if that’s the case and I’m kinda hungry.”

“Jesus Christ,” Brad muttered,” do you ever shut up?” Louder he asked, “What’s your name?”

His soulmate looked taken aback. “Ray. Josh Ray Person, but I’m Ray.” He blinked his giant eyes up at Brad and the grin on his face dimmed into a soft smile that held a lot less crazy. “And you?”

“Brad Colbert.”

“Brad,” Ray said, considering. “I like it.”

“What a relief,” Brad snorted. “That’s what I was worried about.” And it was easy again, like when they’d been communicating across the bar. Some of the tightness in Brad’s chest eased and he reached out to touch Ray again; just a brush of his palm against Ray’s arm. Maybe this didn’t have to change all of his plans.

His skin started tingling again and Ray pressed automatically into his touch, eyes not leaving Brad’s face. Right then, Brad couldn’t think that it would be too hard to choose Ray.

The thought had him stepping back again, before he made the conscious decision to do it. Ray’s eyebrows pulled together. “What are you worried about, then? Isn’t this supposed to be easy?” But it didn’t sound like he was really sure about that either.

Brad couldn’t tell if the urge to be closer and to touch and to—shit—to wrap around Ray and never move again was what he was actually choosing, what he actually wanted, and he felt that old rebellion rising in his chest again.

He decided to test it.

He took another step back and fixed his eyes on Ray’s. They already looked familiar to him and he felt like he could read exactly what Ray was thinking. Something about that made that thing in Brad’s stomach curl again.

Ray’s eyes clouded in confusion for a second and his eyebrows were furrowed again, but the longer Brad looked at him and imagined walking away—as unpleasant as that thought was—the more Ray seemed to understand. “Jesus Christ you’re a piece of work, Colbert,” Ray muttered. But there was the beginning of a smile on his face.

“I could walk away and say no to this,” Brad said out loud, to see if it was true. He took another step back.

“And I couldn’t stop you,” Ray agreed quietly, eyes warm and waiting.

Brad reveled for a second in the idea and the sheer rush of freedom that accompanied it. He watched Ray’s face and he made his choice, though he was pretty sure he’d made it back in the bar hours ago.

Ray gasped when his back thudded against the wall and Brad crowded into him. He grinned, though, as he kissed back, opening up to Brad at the same time Brad opened his lips for Ray. Ray’s hands were clutching at his shoulder blades and pulling slightly. Brad slipped his hands from Ray’s shoulders to his waist and around his back until they were grasping Ray’s sharp hips. He leaned in further and Ray went with him, biting at Brad’s bottom lip before he went back to kissing him.

When he thought his lungs were going to riot, Brad pulled away from Ray’s lips and breathed hard against him. Ray moved his hands up to the sides of Brad’s head and shifted it so their foreheads were resting against each other.

“You said something about being hungry?” Brad asked.

“What did you mean when you said you weren’t expecting to find me?” Ray asked, ignoring Brad.

Brad’s eyes flickered open and were met by Ray’s dark brown. “I planned not to ever hear those words,” he said honestly. Ray rolled his eyes. “Besides, they’re kind of specific and outside my tax bracket. ‘Please allow me to introduce myself,’ I was picturing some stuck-up, rich asshole with an accent.”

Ray snorted a laugh and dragged his words out in a drawl, “Ya mean like this?”

“Something much less stupid and white trash.”

“Hey, fuck you. Not everyone can be a California native. It ain’t my fault I got birthed in Nevada, Missouri,” Ray slipped into the accent again and Brad shuddered.

“Nope, if I’m keeping you around you aren’t allowed to talk like that.”

“Christ, you really lived up to my expectations. I mean, you think you had mental images related to your words, imagine my life.” Ray tugged his collar down again to bare the words on his chest. I’m a man of wealth and taste.

“Damn fucking straight,” Brad replied. Ray rolled his eyes again, but his mouth was quirked up at the corners.

“So you’re keeping me around, huh?” He looped his arms around Brad’s neck.

Brad sighed and focused his gaze somewhere in the middle distance. “I could maybe be persuaded.”

“Well if that’s the reaction I get, sign me the fuck up,” Ray grinned, pulling down so Brad was on his level. He stared at him intensely before he declared, “You’ll do.” Then he surged forward so they were kissing again.

And yeah, it felt electric and Brad didn’t want to stop ever.

The door leading out to the alley swung open and Brad and Ray pulled apart slowly, sure to emphasize their annoyance.

Poke, Nate, and the twelve-year-old stood in the doorway, looking mildly concerned.

“Well, there we go. You two are fine,” Nate said in satisfaction, turning back to the other two like he’d been saying that all along and was now proven right.

“I don’t know about that. My soulmate’s a white trash hick from the middle of fucking nowhere,” Brad replied, straightening.

Ray elbowed him good-naturedly. “See, Walt? Just as pretentious and douche-y as we always thought he would be.” The twelve-year-old grinned.

“Wait, so are you over your ‘it’s my life I should be able to make my own decisions’ thing?” Poke asked, frowning between Brad and Ray. “Because it’s about goddamn time, Dawg. Jesus. You think my people ever got to make their own decisions once the white man showed up?”

Ray’s grin stretched into something that looked like glee and he glanced up as Brad sighed. He just nodded, because yes, Poke was always like this.

“Ray Person,” he introduced, holding his hand out. “One of the Viking’s decisions. Has he always been this high maintenance?”

Nate’s eyes lit up before Brad shot him a look. “Do not tell him how you and I met.” Ray raised his eyebrows and looked up at Brad again, but Brad kept his stare on Nate. Nate didn’t pay any attention and gave Ray a look that promised “later”.

Already not excited for later, Brad decided to interrupt their bonding moment. “You said something about being hungry?” he asked again, nudging Ray in the side.

“Hell yeah, I could eat.”

Poke peered back into the bar and reported, “It’s clearing out inside.”

Ray looked at Brad in question and Brad nodded back. Their three friends disappeared back inside to go reclaim a table and Brad followed right behind them. Ray’s hand slipped into his then and he said quietly, “So when do I get to find out where your words are? Because, I must say, I’ve shown you mine twice now and I’m starting to feel a little like I’m being taken advantage of.”

Brad grinned. Yeah, it wasn’t hard to choose Ray at all.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone's wondering, the song is "Sympathy for the Devil" by the Rolling Stones


End file.
